This will be my attempt at writing a quasi-lyric poem about the legend of Pygmalion and Galatea, the theme being the eternal struggle of the mind, the logic that aspires towards perfection and the heart, which does not hold perfection as a condition for love. I have not fully respected the meters of English poetry and the rhyme is not rigid, but I kept it loosely there so that it sounds more musical without constraining the meaning to the form. below are scenes 1 and 2. I will add the other scenes in future posts.
As a clarification, this poem is based on Tawfiq al Hakim's symbolic theater play.
Scene 1: Pygmalion, in the middle of the night, reaches the altar of Venus in her temple, and throws himself in front of her statue
Pygmalion :
Tonight I pray to thee Venus
Forgive this sorrowful heart
Who knew no one but Appolo
The giver of reason and of Art
And of ambitions ever unbound
who set my spirit on fire
to rise above this finite land
to seek over Mount Olympus
what is beyond the Genius
of both man and immortal god.
And I set within the marble stone
The music of Appolo’s lyre
day after day, with this mortal hand
I soared above what gods aspire
Galatea, the name I carved in words
Unadorned she was, unequal was pure gold
She was my victory, over all you gods
For no god ever made perfect man
Yet that night, perfection was mine to hold !
But where Genius rose ever higher
The void left was filled with desire,
One lonely night not before too long
I sang to her, she offer’d back no song
And where whisper’d tales with tears I told
Her eyes were idle, her palms were cold
Tonight I pray to thee Venus !
Take back all the Genius of my soul
Take back Appolo’s poisoned chalice
Of gods, I no longer wish the role
Breath in her the gift of love and life
That I may find by her, warmth in night
That I may know how mortal fates unite
Make imperfect this - my perfection
Take Galatea, my miracle of creation
Give me Galatea the human, the wife !
Scene 2 : Dialogue of Venus and Appolo, in front of a magic fountain showing both Venus’s temple and Galatea in Pygmalion’s cottage
Venus
Witness my victory god of Art
god of Genius, music and Mind
Your proudest creation has a heart
His vows to Appolo, this night unsigned
How unwise, brother, to think a man
May rise to take the role of god
When we spelled the frailties of mankind
Between heart and reason their choice was made:
Without reason, man may live his life
Yet not a day – by Cupid- from love apart
Appolo :
Our powers are vast but minds finite
While limitless is man’s imagination
gods create the man, who works the night
to rise above us in his own creation
Galatea her name –lifeless she stands
Yet holds Pygmalion’s genius and soul
He did not pray Venus, yet still knew love
For Is Galatea the work of just the hands,
When each night watered with the artist’s tears?
I ask you sister, not to hear his cries
For if you breath into her a mortal life
Happiness he may know, but for a day
If tonight he calls her his love, his wife
Tomorrow she’ll be a Memory of
your crime against labour and perfection
Begrudge him not the sorrows of his heart
Such is his fate to seek his happiness
In making the immortal, from a mortal mind
Do not destroy the miracle of his Art
In the name of the lonely winter’s tears
For if Galatea is the artist’s lasting miracle,
we the gods made the human’s fears
Venus :
I do not live to do favours for man
Be he a genius or a petty thief
But prayers of love I cannot deny
should they bring joy, misery or grief
You see in Galatea your victory
When the artist rose over Olympus high?
Yet Pygmalion shall be my triumph
In her love he’ll find eternal belief !
(She raises her hands)
Cupid ! Prepare your quiver for the game
Tonight thine arrows shall cover the sky !
As a clarification, this poem is based on Tawfiq al Hakim's symbolic theater play.
Scene 1: Pygmalion, in the middle of the night, reaches the altar of Venus in her temple, and throws himself in front of her statue
Pygmalion :
Tonight I pray to thee Venus
Forgive this sorrowful heart
Who knew no one but Appolo
The giver of reason and of Art
And of ambitions ever unbound
who set my spirit on fire
to rise above this finite land
to seek over Mount Olympus
what is beyond the Genius
of both man and immortal god.
And I set within the marble stone
The music of Appolo’s lyre
day after day, with this mortal hand
I soared above what gods aspire
Galatea, the name I carved in words
Unadorned she was, unequal was pure gold
She was my victory, over all you gods
For no god ever made perfect man
Yet that night, perfection was mine to hold !
But where Genius rose ever higher
The void left was filled with desire,
One lonely night not before too long
I sang to her, she offer’d back no song
And where whisper’d tales with tears I told
Her eyes were idle, her palms were cold
Tonight I pray to thee Venus !
Take back all the Genius of my soul
Take back Appolo’s poisoned chalice
Of gods, I no longer wish the role
Breath in her the gift of love and life
That I may find by her, warmth in night
That I may know how mortal fates unite
Make imperfect this - my perfection
Take Galatea, my miracle of creation
Give me Galatea the human, the wife !
Scene 2 : Dialogue of Venus and Appolo, in front of a magic fountain showing both Venus’s temple and Galatea in Pygmalion’s cottage
Venus
Witness my victory god of Art
god of Genius, music and Mind
Your proudest creation has a heart
His vows to Appolo, this night unsigned
How unwise, brother, to think a man
May rise to take the role of god
When we spelled the frailties of mankind
Between heart and reason their choice was made:
Without reason, man may live his life
Yet not a day – by Cupid- from love apart
Appolo :
Our powers are vast but minds finite
While limitless is man’s imagination
gods create the man, who works the night
to rise above us in his own creation
Galatea her name –lifeless she stands
Yet holds Pygmalion’s genius and soul
He did not pray Venus, yet still knew love
For Is Galatea the work of just the hands,
When each night watered with the artist’s tears?
I ask you sister, not to hear his cries
For if you breath into her a mortal life
Happiness he may know, but for a day
If tonight he calls her his love, his wife
Tomorrow she’ll be a Memory of
your crime against labour and perfection
Begrudge him not the sorrows of his heart
Such is his fate to seek his happiness
In making the immortal, from a mortal mind
Do not destroy the miracle of his Art
In the name of the lonely winter’s tears
For if Galatea is the artist’s lasting miracle,
we the gods made the human’s fears
Venus :
I do not live to do favours for man
Be he a genius or a petty thief
But prayers of love I cannot deny
should they bring joy, misery or grief
You see in Galatea your victory
When the artist rose over Olympus high?
Yet Pygmalion shall be my triumph
In her love he’ll find eternal belief !
(She raises her hands)
Cupid ! Prepare your quiver for the game
Tonight thine arrows shall cover the sky !
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